You Don't Bring That on a Picnic!
by Wofl
Summary: Sam is sneaky, Dean is grumpy. There's a mountain and a picnic basket and then there is boyish mischief. Mature. Wincest. snark. fluff.


  
It was dawn. They were standing on the top of a mountain.

Wait...what?

Dean cast a wary eye around the stark landscape, shivering in the wind. Dean had no idea where they were or why. _Only_ Sammy would ever be able to drag Dean - half-asleep and lacking caffeine - on a goddamn nature hike so they could watch the sunrise from the top of a friggen _mountain_.

In the pre-dawn half-light, Dean could see that up here, it was mostly stone. The mountain wasn't big enough to have a treeline, but the last half hour of the hike, the trees had gotten progressively scragglier. Up at the top, it was mostly shrubs and soil and rock.

To their left the plateau ended in a sheer cliff, dropping off and cutting straight down. When Dean stood on the edge and looked down, only great billows of fog met his gaze. It seemed bottomless. Dean swallowed tightly and backed off, giving the cliff a wide berth. It was cool and all, but it made Dean dizzy to think about - in the same way planes made his stomach flip-flop.

Instead, he chose to perch on a smooth, flat boulder some fifty feet back. It was cool to the touch when he sat. Sam's hand was warm when it brushed against Dean's. His brother joined him on the boulder without comment.

And...

Was that a friggen _picnic basket_ at Sam's feet.

Dean blinked and the first ray of the sun's light breached the horizon, brilliant and orange.

It _was_ a picnic basket.

Why had he noticed it before now?

"Sammy, are you missing anything?"

Sam makes a little _hmm?_ noise in the back of his throat, eyes still turned towards the sky, which was turning all sorts of _pretty_ colors. "Missing something? Like what?"

"Your dick, maybe? This is girly as fuck." Privately, Dean concedes that it is the most breathtaking sunrise he's ever witnessed. Which, even _thinking_ that? Ugh. He was a _man_, dammit. "And what's with the basket, Little Red?"

Dean's stomach had never been shy when it came to speaking up, and it informed Dean now, that maybe Sam had brought _food_. And maybe he shouldn't mock Sam because maybe Sam would _share_. "Where did you even get that thing?"

Way to go, _mouth_. Dean's stomach glared mutinously.

Sam snorted and flipped open the wooden lid. "I brought donuts," he said, fishing the bag of sugar coated confections out and tossing them at Dean.

"Because donuts make everything better?" Dean snarks.

...Well, now that he'd mentioned it...

He didn't see Sam's smirk, far too preoccupied with using his teeth to rip open the plastic bag.

--

Two donuts later, Dean added another reason to the list of why Sammy was the best brother ever.

Because - _bless him_ - Sam had pushed a thermos into his hands and when Dean opened it, the rich smell of hot, black coffee hit him. And oh, just the way he liked it. There were few things on earth more satisfying.

Dean looked at his brother and maybe kinda-sorta smirked a little. They were still on top of a mountain, after all. Sam turned back to the sunrise, and for a second, Dean was almost sure his brother had _winked_.

--

The sun was high enough to graze the crown of Sam's head by the time Dean polished off the bag of donuts. Without further distraction, and because it had already been a thing absolute good, Dean's attention turned back towards the picnic basket.

More specifically, the contents of said basket.

What other awesome things could Sam be hiding in there?

Glancing sideways at Sam to make sure he wasn't looking, Dean shifted his weight and snagged the handles of the basket with his foot, surreptitiously dragging it closer.

--

There was a rock poking into the small of his back. A goddamn _sharp_ rock. Sharp enough, at least, that he was aware of it, beyond the haze of skin and sweat, friction and heat.

_God_, it was hot. The sun had broken independent from the rim of the earth and clawed its way ever higher. Exposed bits of skin prickled with the heat of the planet's closest star; the rest of him flushed from the heat of Sam, warm and alive on top of him.

Oh god, this was _so_ Brokeback Mountain. (It was on cable, alright? He'd had the flu. Totally not his fault. Wasn't even paying attention anyways.) This was so frigging effed up. The rock dug deeper into his back, until Dean was forced to hiss and arch up and away. Damn blanket did nothing.

Stupid Sam. This was all his fault.

Well, really, it was Dean's fault. He was the one, after all, who let Sam wrap him right around his damn finger. The kid knew _exactly_ how to push Dean's buttons. What was worse – Sam did it so easily. It was kind of embarrassing.

It was all Sam's fault, but Dean had gotten himself into this situation. He wondered if his younger brother thought about life in terms of chess, playing several moves ahead, anticipating his opponent's reactions and counter-moves. Was Dean really that predictable?

The answer to that question was obvious.

Sam had known Dean would be too nosy to keep his hands out of the picnic basket. All it had taken was one glance at the bottle of lube nestled a couple of apples and some trail mix (rabbit food) and Dean had been almost instantly hard.

Damn, Sam was a tricky bastard.

Sam's eyes had been on him when Dean had looked up from his perusal of the coveted basket, the corners of his lips turning up smugly. "Told you I'd make it worth your while, didn't I?"

Dean doesn't remember Sam saying that at all. He could only assume it was in the coercing-him-out-of-bed stage. Then again, Dean was finding it pretty hard to think at the moment. Because Sam was pressing closer, fingers of one hand like humming birds, lighting on the ridge of Dean's shoulder. He slid the palm of his other hand down the length of Dean's forearm, until it too was lost inside the picnic basket.

His hand knocked against Dean's in the tight confines, and then Sam found what he was looking for and dragged out... Dean raised an eyebrow, speculatively. A blanket? Damn, Sam was like a friggen boy scout. Except with sex.

He was vaguely aware of some sort of pun he should be making concerning that, but somehow, he didn't have the brain capacity. Sam had already managed to shake out the material - mustard yellow and tattered around the edges, Dean can only imagine where his brother got the thing - but it was better than the bare earth. He pushed Dean down onto the ground, coaxing him onto his back with lips and tongue and hands.

And now? Dean was hot everywhere, inside and out. His skin was on fire and the rock was jabbing into his back and Sam was a damn teasing bastard. He had his teeth on Dean's earlobe, fingernails of one threading through Dean's close-cropped hair, the other three fingers deep in Dean's ass.

Shit. He was a moron and clever Sammy had won again. In a superficial way, it sets Dean's teeth to grinding, draws an aggravated growl from his throat. But really, Sammy was the only one he didn't mind losing to.

But enough was enough. Sam had been stringing him along with all this fucking _foreplay_ for the last half hour. He'd thought they were beyond all of that fooling around bullshit. Dean was ready and he was ready now and if Sam didn't hurry the fuck up, Dean would have to just get himself off and that completely defeated the purpose.

Little brothers. Royal pains in the asses, that's what they were.

--

By the time Sam decided to be a man and put his dick to good use, the sun had shifted just that fraction of an inch more. Now it was right in Dean's eyes. He had little choice but to scrunch them closed and turn his head away.

Sam was muscles and motion on top of him. He could feel the shift-slide of Sam's bronze skin beneath his fingers as his brother set the rhythm. Dean huffed out a relieved breath and arched his hips to match Sam's thrusts. It was about damn time.

It was always weird, to feel Sam inside him. It burned, but it felt good at the same time; a juxtaposition that Dean never really understood, but didn't question too much. It kept him coming back for more, however, and that was incentive enough.

With his head turned, his neck lay exposed, and Sam took full advantage with no hesitation. He licked and nipped his way across Dean's skin, leaving stinging, searing nerves in his wake. Dean burned and itched in his own skin, feeling oddly stretched and too big for his body, like he was going to burst at any second and unravel.

It should worry him, but with Sam there to pick up any pieces, Dean felt oddly at ease with the sensation.

Which was a good thing, because as soon as Dean decided that, Sam's hand found Dean's cock and it was _over_. Less than a minute and Dean forgot all about the rock, but arched his back so hard, you'd think he'd been stabbed. His voice echoed out across the empty space of the mountaintop, a guttural, mindless cry that he didn't realize he'd made until it reverberated back to his ears.

His only consolation was that Sam was in a similar state. His brother was still and heavy atop Dean, shoulders rising and falling as he caught his breath.

And now that his dick was no longer running the show, he could think of at least a dozen witty, snarky things to say to fill up the comfortable silence they'd fallen into. He opened his mouth to speak – tease Sam or call him a name, _something_ - and Sam's tongue curled into his mouth, warm and strange. But damn, it was good.

Dean decided that the teasing could wait. At least until they were off that godforsaken mountain. But that didn't mean Sam was off the hook for taking him on a _picnic_. Sex or no sex, that was just too good an opportunity to pass up. 


End file.
